


Strictly Pale

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pale-Red Vacillation, Smut, Vanilla, kk says its strictly pale but we all kno he pity the lalonde, pale sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat's upset. Roxy comforts him.</p>
<p>based off the headcanon that moirails pail, mostly as a form of comfort when one can't be shoosh-papped out of sadness, or for practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strictly Pale

Upon coming over to Roxy’s apartment for a video game spree, you had slammed the door louder than normal, and she came flouncing into the entry way, wearing shorts, a tank top, and a wild grin. “Hey, Karks!” she greeted, but her expression dropped when she saw your own—solemn and upset and a bit angry.

“KK, what’s wrong?” she asked, coming up to you and tugging on your elbow. You shook your head, accidentally letting a small growl slip.

“Friends are being shit heads,” you answered vaguely.

“Oh, god,” she sighed, “what’d they do this time?”

When you didn’t respond, she added in a quieter voice, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You cursed a little in Alternian (and then English, of course) and sat down on her pink, floral couch, cheap as shit but decently comfortable. She sat down next to you; you obviously needed comforting. That’s why you’re in a moirallegiance, after all.

When she started to speak, you cut her off with a “Shut up,” to which she complied. Upon realizing it was harsher than intended, you sighed and added, in a softer voice, “Please, can we just…not talk?”

She nodded, and the two of you sat there for about five minutes. But after that, you couldn’t stop being upset, and no matter of shoopapping would help; this wasn’t anger, it was sadness. You needed comfort. Intimate, trusting, _physical_ comfort.

“Hey, Rox?”

“Hmm?” She turned to look at you.

You leaned over and kissed her.

It was chaste, of course, and lasted for two seconds, neither of you moving, until you pulled away. She sat there for a moment, blinking a little as you blushed, looked away. You knew it was a bad idea, but your instinct just sort of…took over.

“Whoa, okay, um,” she looked at you curiously, cheeks dusting pink, “thought we were just pale buddies, KK.”

“We are,” you answered immediately. “It’s…a bit more complicated than that.”

“Oh?” she moved closer on the couch.

“Yeah, well…some moirails will pail for comfort or for practice.” You looked away, still embarrassed. You didn’t want to freak her out with your creepy romance shit; you were lucky enough that she was okay with being in a moirallegiance.

“Ooooh.” She sat up a bit straighter. “And pailing is the troll word for fucking, right?”

“Yes.”

“So we can fuck?”

“…Yes?”

“Without it being weird or super creepy or having weird feelings afterward?”

You nodded.

“ _Hella_ cool!”

You blinked. “What?”

“ _Hell_ _yes_ , sex without feeling morally obligated to be in a romantic relationship afterwards _or_ the other partner leaving directly after? Sign me up! Let’s do it!”

You blinked again, confused by her wild grin. “Wait…you’re serious?”

“’Course I am, Vantas.” She laughed before settling down, having realized something; she put her index finger to her chin and slouched a little. “But…so, what do you need comforting with?”

After explaining the situation, she figured it’d be best to go to her bedroom for upcoming events, and promptly slipped her house shoes off when you sat down on her bed. She then joined you.

This leads you to the present.

“Soooo….how’re we gonna go about this?”

You shift on the bed, still upset and now uncomfortable, as the blonde human tucks her legs under herself and places her hands loosely on her knees. Sighing, you glance at her.

“I don’t know, why are you asking me?” you snap.

“Uh,” she grins a little, probably trying to lighten the mood or something, “probably because you’re the only one with experience in troll romance here.”

You glower at her while she laughs. “Shut up,” you mumble, and while the conversation is a bit of a distraction, it’s still not enough. You’re mind keeps going back to what happened with your shitty friends, and it almost makes you want to cry. She sees the anguished expression you’re wearing, and the small, red tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, so she kisses you gently. You kiss back a little.

It escalates from there.

Neither of you are virgins, by any means, so getting going is easy, but the real trouble lies in where she wants to go after that. She seems excited about the concept, but you’re afraid that she’ll mistake it for red feelings or something. It’s borderline taboo for moirails to pail, but here you are, getting ready to do so, and, hell, you’re _nervous_.

Roxy giggles gently and slips her white tank top over her head; it’s not a surprise that her bra is hot pink, especially when you could see it through her clothes earlier, and her underwear doesn’t match, she says, because she hadn’t planned on this happening.

But you nod and look away even though there’s no reason to, pulling your own pants down while she kisses you. You take your sweater off soon after, leaving the two of you just in your underwear. She keeps kissing you, across your neck and your shoulders, and you bark that she’s leaving stains from her lipstick, and she just giggles even more, pulling you closer to her. And you think it’s really great, the way she keeps laughing and wiggling her toes just from being happy.

Roxy sighs into you, wraps her legs around your back while you unhook her bra, shuffles out of said undergarment, and pulls her legs away to take her panties off too. You keep blushing.

She’s pretty. And not just pretty in the sense that flowers are pretty, but she’s also _gorgeous_ —in the sense that movie stars are gorgeous, lips parted as she sighs again, a little sigh of your name, stretching her arms over her head gently while you try not to look at her body too much. You’re not sure what she’s comfortable with, but she also doesn’t do much else than grin when she catches you glancing at her.

Roxy kisses you again, smiling against your lips and mumbling on and on about something or another, sometimes profound and mostly ridiculous, talking about troll romance and how pale she’s for you (because you like it when she says it that way) and human romance and this one romcom she needs to watch with you and sometimes her college courses, and she talks the entire time.

“I wish somebody’d told me more ‘bout troll shit at the beginning.”

She slips off your underwear for you.

“Like, I feel like since integration happened and the prejudice is less, they should teach humans about it in school? Or maybe just have some classes on it as an option? Like, interspecies relationships are supes common now like hey look at us doing the do and—“

Unfazed by your troll junk, she wraps her hand around your bulge, all cold, tiny, slender fingers with the nails filed and painted black, wearing a small ring on her middle finger, one that you got for her from one of those twenty-five-cent slot machines a couple months ago.

“Whoa, it’s really weird doin’ sexual activities with you when everyone always told me that moirails are the equivalent of platonic BFFLS, and like, I wouldn’t go out and bone Jane but this is a thing that’s happening and it’s totally okay and it’s great, wow, you’re great.”

You cover your mouth with one hand when she ruins her hands over your bulge.

“Hey, hey, KK,” she uses her free hand to coax your own from covering your mouth. “C’mon, man, you don’t have to hold it back or anythin’. Although to be fair, most guys I’ve sexed haven’t started moaning ‘cause I touch their junk. Maybe I’ve gotten better at handjobs than before? I dunno, is troll junk more sensitive than human junk?”

You don’t reply. Her pumping has started going to the beat of her words, and you’ve taken you’re hand off your mouth, a few sighs and occasional mewls leaving you as she continues.

After a while, she stops and then pulls you closer, lying down on the bed with you again and so you’re on top of her. Your bulge, slick and bright red and _very_ unsheathed, presses against her nook (or, well, humans call them vaginas or something, but you don’t really give a fuck what its political term is, because you just want to be _inside it)_ and you wonder if it bothers her.

The blonde is _laughing_ —what the fuck, why is she _laughing_? You glower at her a little, but her eyes are closed. When she opens them and sees your expression, she just laughs more and spreads her legs complyingly, almost teasing you in the most childish ways, the way she rolls her eyes and gives a small “Fine,” through an over-exasperated sigh. It’s all fun and games to her, your pailing, and it’s purely platonic, filled with joking and laughter, and her attitude is refreshing; you’d started to get worried that it would be weird.

You hold her hands next to her, and the laughter begins to cease when you press up against her. You do it again because it’s kind of nice to hear her breath hitch in her throat and she’s still smiling but when you press into her, slowly at first, getting positioned, her breathing picks up and she squirms a little under you, mouth forming a small “o” as you enter her.

And it’s a tight fit, because she’s a small person and troll bulges weren’t made to go into human vaginas, so you’re careful when you start moving, pulling out and pushing in gently, over and over, squeezing her hands and asking if it’s okay, are you okay, does that feel okay, are you sure it isn’t hurting, we can stop if I’m hurting you, right in her ear and she keeps sighing, groaning, mewling, until they’re full out moans as your pace picks up, so you take that as a yes.

But you’re still nervous and keep asking her, quieter this time because you’re getting distracted, and she starts replying breathily, eyes closed, “God, yes, Karkat, it feels fuckin’ _fantastic_ …!” And you blink twice in surprise, and blink once more when she starts moaning, “Please, c’mon, _faster_ , Kittykat, _please_!”

She opens her eyes upon telling you that, and she keeps saying it, over and over, eyes all lust filled and pupils dilated so that the magenta isn’t nearly as noticeable, and that’s the only thing about this that you don’t like. You like her eyes. You lean down and kiss her, kiss down her neck, hands her breast and playing with her nipple (they're kind of weird to you, but it's making her buck her hips into yours so you do it anyway).

“Kittykat, Kittykat,” she keeps mumbling, over and over, because she loves that nickname for you. When you hit a sweet spot, her back arches into you and she says your real name unconsciously. You’re mewling too, moaning every now and then, pace beginning to become erratic as you both near your climax, and she loves it oh god she loves it she keeps telling you how much she loves it loves this loves your relationship and you think she almost says she loves you but you’d take it as meaning red so she changes it to “I’m so pale for you” mid-sentence.

She nearly screams, “Karkat!” when she finishes, and that’s enough to make you finish too, spewing her name, Roxy, Roxy, Roxy, her entire body trembling underneath you; your thrusts slow down after a moment. She’s panting and looking up at you from your position on top of her, eyes all half-lidded and lips swollen. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath, neither of you saying anything.

You flop down on top of her wordlessly, sliding yourself out, tired and not wanting to look at the mess you know you created. The genetic material you released feels gross when you press yourself against her, bodies slick from sex and sweat.

“Hey, now, Kitty,” she says, kissing your forehead and both your cheeks, “we’ve got some cleanin’ up to do.”

You groan and bury your head between her tits, because human ones are much softer than troll ones, and hers are particularly comfortable. Not to mention attractive. “Don’t remind me.”

She doesn’t protest your mutual lack of productivity, humming slightly in response and running her fingers through your hair, brushing against the base of your horns. You shiver, and she does it again, resulting in a lot of purring from your end.

“What the fuck,” she says in astonishment while she continues rubbing your small horns, “you’re purring. Oh my _god_ , that is the single cutest shit I’ve ever heard of, KK, you’re like a fuckin’ _cat_! Why’d you never tell me?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumble against her, flesh hot and very fair in contrast to your gray skin.

“How? You’ve gotta have all the ladies linin’ up to sex you with that!”

“A lot of trolls can’t do that, and most think it’s, like, I don’t fuckin’ know, not manly? Or something.”

She laughs. “It’s manly as hell.”

“Tell that to the asshole.”

You fall into silence as she cradles you there, massaging your head calmly while you doze off.

“SHIT!” she jumps suddenly.

You jump in response as well, having almost been asleep. “What the fuck?! What’s wrong?”

She gives you a mildly terrified look. “I just remembered that Dirk and Jane are coming over in little less than an hour.”

You spend the next “little less than an hour” cleaning all your fucking genetic material up and then showering together.

 


End file.
